


meow or never

by velvetnoodle (goldfishsunglasses)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, evie the cat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 15:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishsunglasses/pseuds/velvetnoodle
Summary: Harry is having a terrible, no good, very bad day.He’s holed himself up in the back of the university library, stealing an entire sofa for himself. The fact that no one has said anything to him about it just goes to show how much his feelings must be on display. That’s nothing new; Harry’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And cried easily. Not that he’s crying yet, but he’s close. It’s been a right shit day, and Harry just wants to go back to his room and bury his face in Evie’s soft fur. Unfortunately, he no longer has that luxury.When Harry is forced to choose between getting kicked out of student housing or giving up his cat, a moment of self-pity leads to the discovery of a third, and much more appealing, option





	meow or never

Harry is having a terrible, no good, very bad day. 

He’s holed himself up in the back of the university library, stealing an entire sofa for himself. The fact that no one has said anything to him about it just goes to show how much his feelings must be on display. That’s nothing new; Harry’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And cried easily. Not that he’s crying yet, but he’s close. It’s been a right shit day, and Harry just wants to go back to his room and bury his face in Evie’s soft fur. Except, he no longer has that luxury. 

The sofa cushion dips as someone joins him, and Harry refuses to look. He doesn’t want his outburst to be witnessed by anyone; he’s not one of those people who can look pretty whilst crying. He gets too snotty for that, Harry does. The person doesn’t move, not even when Harry not-so-subtly angles his body even further away

Surely showing someone your back is enough of a sign that they aren’t welcome to sit with you. And who even sits down next to a stranger without asking first? It’s just impolite. Normally, he’d say something, but he doesn’t trust his voice right now. Plus he doesn’t feel like talking to strangers anyway. He should be thinking about what to do next. What to do about Evie.

Reminding himself of his situation turns out to be a bad idea, because now he wants to cry some more. He can’t quite bite back the gasping sob that escapes, and the sofa cushion shifts again. Bollocks, he really should leave. 

There’s a tentative  _ ahem  _ followed by a louder, but still hesitant, “you okay there, mate?”

The stranger isn’t a stranger after all. Harry recognises that voice, even if they’ve only met in passing a few times. There’s not much opportunity for a third year and a first year student to interact. Which is a shame, Harry thinks, because this stranger - Louis, his name is Louis, Harry remembers - is really quite fit. It’s excellent luck that they’ve crossed paths again. Excellent luck… and horrible timing. 

Harry quickly wipes his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, cringes once he realises what he’s just done, and pushes it up to his elbow quickly as he finally turns around. He hopes the look of surprise on his face wasn’t obvious to the fit stranger now across from him, and he’s torn between wanting the floor to swallow him up, and wanting to drown in those blue, blue,  _ blue,  _ eyes. 

He settles for spilling his tale of woe. 

“Someone told student housing about my cat,” he blurts without actually answering the question, and once he starts it’s like he can’t stop. “And—” he gulps. “And, they say I can’t keep her, and that she has to be gone by tonight or they’ll evict us. Or me. I don’t really know, there was a lot of yelling. Kinda tuned most of it out, really. But I don’t know what to do; I don’t know anyone who can take her, and I can’t drop her off at a shelter. I won’t do that to her, ‘s just cruel,  y’know?” 

Harry sighs and drops his head into his hands. His elbows dig into his thighs as he grinds the heels of his hands against his eyes. He won’t cry in front of Louis. Louis already thinks he’s a bloody kid; he doesn’t need another reason to think Harry’s immature. He can’t cry. 

Unfortunately, his body has other ideas. 

He blinks back the stubborn tears threatening to spill out, and jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder, as Louis slides his whole arm around Harry.  He leans into the embrace; if he wasn’t so bloody upset he’d be over the moon. Louis is touching him, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his upper arm, and Harry barely registers the feeling. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says, because the solution hasn’t magically popped into his brain yet. Awfully inconvenient, that. 

He inhales a shaky breath and just lets Louis hold him. Louis’ murmuring now, not so low that Harry can’t understand the words, but he doesn’t try to anyway. They aren’t important; it’s enough that Louis is here, even if his presence doesn’t exactly solve the problem either. Still. It’s nice. 

“I could take her.”

Harry’s head whips up so fast he nearly hits Louis in the chin. “You? Why?”

Louis’ eye roll doesn’t quite hide the way he goes a bit pink at Harry’s question. “Own me own house, don’t I? No one to tell me I can’t. Plus, I like cats, and you said she’d end up in a shelter otherwise. So.”

“That means I’ll have to go to your place to see her.” 

“I know.”

“Like, a lot. I’ll wanna see my cat a lot.”

“I figured, yeah. Yeah.”

“Maybe I could move in with you too,” Harry blurts. Louis gives him a Look, and he quickly follows up with “kidding! I’m joking, I don’t actually want that.” He doesn’t, he really wasn’t serious. Unless Louis is okay with it, in which case Harry can pack a bag and be at his door in under an hour. If that was something Louis wanted, of course. Only then. 

Harry’s not really sure how to describe the expression on Louis’ face. It’s part fond confusion and part barely concealed mirth, and 100% adorably adorable. It’s possible he went too far with this offer, joke or not, and he bites his lower lip nervously, worrying it between his teeth as he waits for Louis to  _ fucking say something. _

Louis blinks, and Harry holds his breath. He blinks again, and then he’s laughing. At Harry. Hopefully not meanly, Harry worries, and he gets nervous then. He’s probably gone and borked it right up. Louis’ about to tell him to fuck off, to go find someone else to take his cat. Because Harry’s too weird, comes on too strong. And is a bit of an idiot, if he’s honest. The last part is made worse by Louis’ presence, in his defence. Surely, no one expects him to keep a level head in the presence of an actual angel. That’d be mad.

Louis makes as if to stand, and holds a hand out to Harry. “Do we need to stop by your room and get her, then?”

Harry’s bag wriggles, and Harry feels his neck crack as his head whips to stare at it. The bag emits a tiny, pitiful meow before wriggling again and threatening to fall over. Harry dives for it, but Louis is quicker. He steadies the bag and Evie pokes her head out curiously. She blinks at Louis and meows again, loud enough to turn heads their way, and Harry shushes her and gently nudges her back into the bag. “Um, no. No, we don’t need to do that.”

Louis looks properly amused now, and Harry’s cheeks are burning. It’s a pleasant burn, however. He likes having Louis’ eyes on him. Enough that he doesn’t even remember to feel nervous as his hand meets Louis’ as the other man helps him up off the couch. 

(Well, almost enough.)

*** * ***

The bus to Louis’ seems to take forever. Harry’s certain everyone can tell he’s got a cat in his bag, and that he’s seconds away from being hauled away for like, animal cruelty or something. Louis seems perfectly calm, though, and his lack of worry is actually soothing. If Louis doesn’t think there’s any reason to panic, then it must be true. Still, Harry shifts from side to side nervously, which accidentally causes his bag to swing and Evie to meow in protest. Louis coughs loudly, and shares a smile with Harry that feels private. Like it’s only for him. He smiles back awkwardly, and feels warm all the way to the tips of his toes. 

The wheels go over a bump, and Harry stumbles, certain he’s about to fall and take Evie down with him, when Louis wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in close. 

“Okay there, curly?”

Harry nods, and Louis shoots him that private smile again. Harry spends the rest of the journey pressed to Louis’ side, and he almost forgets the terrible, horrible, no-good situation that led him here. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t care, because now he’s got Louis, and he gets to keep his cat, and he’s got  _ Louis _ , and things are looking up.

Okay, so he doesn’t really have Louis. Yet. Christ, he doesn’t even know if Louis is single. Doesn’t know anything about him, actually. Maybe this is why Gemma keeps calling him naive. Louis’ got a trustworthy face, though, and Harry likes to think he’s a pretty good judge of character. (Despite anything Gemma might claim otherwise.) 

“Are you sure your girlfriend won’t mind you bringing a random cat home?” he asks, because, well, the desire to know is too strong. 

“Don’t got one of those.”

“Boyfriend?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nope, just me. Had a roommate, but he moved out last month. I could use the company, if I’m honest.”

“Like, Evie’s company?”

“Sure,” he laughs, “let’s go with that.”

Harry flushes, and busies himself with making sure Evie is both comfortable in his bag and undetected by their fellow passengers. He pretends to be too engrossed in his task to continue talking to Louis, which isn’t very kind, he knows, but he’s far too nervous for small talk. He might say something so horribly embarrassing that Louis will rethink his decision, and then Harry will be back to square one. So, he keeps quiet, and ignores the way Louis can’t seem to stop watching him. It feels more flattering than creepy, really, and an overly optimistic bit of Harry wonders if it means something. 

(It also could just be because Louis has a hand on Harry’s waist, and Harry is ignoring him, but that option is far less exciting.)

*** * ***

Louis’ flat’s got two bedrooms, but Harry can’t spot evidence of another person living there. Then he remembers Louis mentioning a roommate who moved out, and he’s grateful he didn’t ask. He follows Louis out of the doorway and into the lounge, where he finally releases Evie from her confinement. She practically falls out of his arms, and sprints over to the couch where she regards the two of them from her new perch on the back of it. 

“She needs water,” Harry says a bit stupidly, mostly to break the silence, because of course she does. And he can’t very well expect Louis to do every single thing right now.

“Sinks in the kitchen, mate,” Louis says, not looking up from where he’s arranging Evie’s things. 

Harry nods, and can’t help but feel like he’s being dismissed. When Louis doesn’t say anything else, Harry hurries out of the room, his stomach in knots. This was a mistake. A stupid,  _ stupid  _ mistake. 

Okay, not really, because now Evie has somewhere to stay; he gets to keep his cat and visit her as often as he’d like. Which is why this was a mistake, really, because Louis’ going to eventually find out how totally, epically and fantastically  _ uncool  _ Harry actually is. Harry’s done a pretty good job of pretending so far, if he does say so himself, but he’s bound to fuck up soon. He just knows it. 

And then Louis will think he’s just another lame fresher and won’t want to spend time with him. Like, he’d probably still let Harry see Evie - he doesn’t seem like a  _ monster  _ \- but Harry wants to do other things. Like play Fifa. And possibly scrabble. 

Oh, god, what if Louis doesn’t like scrabble? What if he thinks it’s a daft game for children? Oh no, oh no, oh  _ no. _

The knots in his stomach grow exponentially worse, and his hands are shaking so badly that it takes three tries to fill the water bowl. He wipes up the spill with a bit of kitchen roll, and realises he can’t find a bin to put it in. 

He pokes his head back into the lounge. “Hey, Lou, I can’t find—” Harry’s train of thought stops as he takes in the sight before him. 

Louis is crouched on the floor in front of Evie. His bum - that Harry doesn’t even try to stop himself from staring at - is in the air, and he’s swaying it back and forth in what looks like an imitation of Evie’s tail. It’s hard to make out exactly what it is that he’s saying, but it sounds like baby talk. 

No, it’s definitely baby talk. And it’s… well, it’s unexpected. Not in a bad way, it’s just that Harry’d built up Louis in his head. Built up the  _ idea _ of him. This effortlessly cool third-year, with enough confidence to invite strange boys back to his flat. Who may or may not be flirting with Harry, but in a far less awkward way than Harry would be. The Louis Harry imagined would never act like this. 

“Who’s the prettiest kitty in the whole wide world? Is it you? Is it  _ you _ ? It is! It is you! Yes it is, yes it iiiis,” Louis babbles in a sickly-sweet voice. He still hasn’t noticed Harry standing there, and Harry is so hypnotised by the sight that he doesn’t want to interrupt. He’s so, so incredibly endeared, and if he wasn’t confident that this was the perfect place for Evie to stay before, then he’s absolutely certain now. 

He can work with this. Because Louis is, well. Louis is a dork. Harry likes dorks, Harry  _ is  _ a dork, and he finds boys who talk to animals bloody adorable. He almost feels like a monster for interrupting the moment. 

“Er,” he starts from his spot at the door, “where’s your bin?”

Louis’ head whips around so fast Harry is pretty sure his neck cracks, and he looks embarrassed at being caught in such an odd position. “Bathroom,” he says quickly, and Harry nods, choosing not to call Louis out on his cuteness in case he gets embarrassed. 

(Louis must not have been that embarrassed after all, because when Harry returns, the scene has turned even more saccharine, and Harry sort of never wants to leave.)

*** * ***

Harry catches sight of the time on the microwave, and realises he’s been there for almost two hours. Not wanting to overstay his welcome, he abruptly stands up, his movement making both Louis and Evie stare. “I— I, er, I should really be going now,” Harry says. It’s a lie, he’s got nowhere to be for the rest of the evening, but he sort of wants to spare Louis the awkward task of asking him to leave. And spare himself the mortification of, well, being told he needs to leave. 

Louis looks confused, but doesn’t try to stop Harry as he cuddles Evie goodbye and collects his things. Part of him wants to do something like hug Louis goodbye - they technically cuddled earlier; maybe he’s allowed? - but at the last minute, he chickens out and takes his leave with only a simple promise to call before he comes by to see his cat. He’s already out in the hall when he hears someone calling out. 

“Wait!”

It’s Louis.

Harry stops, afraid to look back. He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets to hide how much they’re shaking, and considers pretending he didn’t hear Louis. Except… well, he’s already stopped walking. It would just be rude not to see what Louis wants. When he turns, he sees Louis in the doorway, Evie sitting at his ankles regarding Harry with mild curiosity. Louis, however, looks more than a bit frantic. Harry may not have known Louis very long, but he’s certain the other man isn’t someone who gets flustered very often, and he doesn’t know what to do with that assumption. 

Louis seems to realise Harry isn’t going to say anything, and he looks nervous as he gestures down to Evie. “She has a question for you.”

That’s… unexpected. “Evie has a question? For me?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, like that’s a regular occurrence. “She does. It’s proper urgent, too.”

“Well, go on then,” Harry prompts, only he’s not looking at Evie. Louis’ cheeks have gone more than a bit pink, and it’s somehow enough to calm Harry’s nerves. He fights the urge to take a step forward, and watches as Louis bites his lip harshly before swallowing. 

“Wannastaythenight?” Louis says, and Harry has no idea what’s just come out of his mouth. 

“Sorry?”

“I said,” Louis repeats, slower this time, “wanna stay the night?”

Harry blinks in surprise. “Do you want me to?” he asks, completely dropping the pretence of talking to his cat. Louis nods, and Harry pretends to mull it over. “Like, a sleepover? As mates? Who only just met?”

Louis shrugs, looking sheepish.

“Will there be pillow fights?”

“Do you… Do you want there to be pillow fights?”

Harry shrugs this time. “Rather there be kissing, if I’m honest.”

His frank confession seems to return Louis’ confidence to its previous level, and quicker than a blink, Louis’ lips are on his. And then just as quickly, they’re gone. It’d happened so fast that Harry hadn’t even had time to close his eyes, so he doesn’t miss the way Louis blushes and bites at his lip. He worries it between his teeth, and Harry doesn’t want that. He wants to be the one nibbling that lip. Louis should be kissing him, he wants to be kissing Louis. 

And so he does. And he doesn’t stop, doesn’t want to stop until Evie decides she’s hungry, and won’t let up until she’s fed. It turns out that it’s hard to kiss someone when there’s a cat swiping at your ankles, and even harder to do so when the other person is opening a tin of cat food. It’s near impossible whilst fetching bowls and scooping food, but Harry doesn’t let that stop him. 

His day may have had a terrible, no good, very bad start, but thanks to Louis - and, to some degree, Evie - it’s made a complete 180. Thanks to kind strangers and random acts of kindness, and tattletale hallmates. And, mostly, his inability to say no to free cats, and fit boys, and kisses. 

(Lots and lots of kisses.)  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr <3](http://velvetnoodle.tumblr.com/post/181650250723/harry-is-having-a-terrible-no-good-very-bad-day)


End file.
